


Coming Back To You

by Steph2265



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-19 11:25:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11312397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steph2265/pseuds/Steph2265
Summary: A thriller lesbian romance





	1. Chapter 1

On the other side of the table, the investors covered their mouths, whispered, and then nodded.

 Ali felt the muscles in her stomach tightening. Everything hinged on this moment. they were so close, only inches away, from people who had the power and resources to change the entire fortune of the company.

 They had worked so hard, constantly pushing themselves, never accepting anything but their absolute best. But they had been in this position before, full of hope and enthusiasm, presenting a great offer to the right people, only to be rejected.

_We love this idea. But you guys just aren't ready yet._

_We need to see some hard sales numbers before we can put up any serious money._

They had heard a litany of reasons. But they continued to fight on, refining their pitch, refusing to give into the long odds.

"Ali, Ashlyn, Michael, we really believe in Sunday Morning Pastries," the grey-haired Mr. Jenkins, a renowned venture-capitalist, said. "Our offer is.... 2.5 million for a 25 percent royalty share until the money is recouped. After that, the royalty split will go down to five percent."

"Are you serious!" Michael blurted out.

Both Ashlyn and Ali turned and stared at him sharply. He quickly shrunk back into his shell. Sometimes that was definitely the best place for him to be.

"Yes, we normally ask for much more advantageous terms. But the story you told me about why you chose that name really softened me up."

Ali suppressed the urge to scream ecstatically that she felt rising in her chest. "That sounds excellent. You have a deal!"

After the investors left, Ali, Ashlyn, and Michael beamed with pride. They had finally done it! Sunday Morning Pastries was going to be huge!

Their pastries would be on the shelves in more than 850 supermarkets. It wouldn't be long before they were bringing in more than a million a year in profit.

Ali smiled brightly as she felt Ashlyn's breath on her neck, then her lips kissing her ear. She turned with excitement. They stared into each other's eyes and kissed gently on the lips then tightly embraced.

"I can see that I need to leave you two alone," Michael said. Neither Ali nor Ashlyn turned towards him. They were still locked in on each other. Their love was real. This life that they had been building together had never felt more real.

"Yeah, I think we need some time alone," Ashlyn said. "But maybe we can all meet up tomorrow for dinner and drinks."

Ali wasn't going to argue with that. There would be plenty of time for all three of them to celebrate together. But for now, on this night, there were things she wanted to do with Ashlyn all alone. Just the two of them. Legs and arms intertwined, tongues twirling, swapping saliva and...... so much more.

"How about we stay in bed for the next couple of days?" Ashlyn proposed. "Just the two of us."

"That sounds good to me," Ali said. "Let's go." They kissed again. Then Ali heard her phone ringing, sighing deeply and closed her eyes. Who could possibly be calling her? It was Friday afternoon. She should've ignored it, let it go to voicemail. But instead she pulled it out of her purse. When she saw the name on the screen, a chill passed over her body.

"What's wrong, baby?" Ashlyn asked.

Ali didn't answer. She kept staring at the name:  **Dad**. it was hardly ever good when he called.

After Ashlyn backed away, she answered the call. "HI dad. Is everything ok?"

She should've known before she asked that question, before she opened her mouth, that there was no way that things were okay. Why would he be calling her if things were okay?

"No, honey, Things are not ok. Not at all." He sounded like he was sniffling, holding back tears. He also was slurring his words.

 _Oh, No,_ Ali said to herself. _What had he done this time?_

"I don't want to talk about this over the phone," he said. "Please come up here tonight."

"Dad, I just got out of an important meting, and I have a weekend planned with...."

"No, no, no. You have to come tonight. This can't wait."

Ali closed her eyes and sighed. "Baby, what's wrong?" Ashlyn asked.

"Everything."

 Ten minutes later Ali was in her car and heading out of the city to Westchester County, an affluent New York City suburb. She couldn't believe how quickly her mood had changed. The investment agreement had been such a high. It was something that they had waited so long for. And then within an hour, she was pulled back to reality, back to this part of her life that she still hadn't been able to leave behind her. Westchester, her childhood. Her gambling, drunken father, the man who driven her mother to a premature death, who had driven her older brother, Kyle, all the way across the country.

 She was the only one that he could turn to. She didn't know how much longer she would be able to handle that burden.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Ali was barely a teenager when her parent's marriage began falling apart, when her mother left and shortly after died of breast cancer, leaving behind two children and a husband who had an addiction problem.

When her brother, Kyle, turned eighteen, he headed to the other side of the country never to return again. He couldn't take it anymore. Ali had considered doing the same but something held her back. She hadn't been able to abandon her old man, even though she should have, even though it would have been justified. He had hardly ever been there for her. But deep down she had never lost her love for him or sense of loyalty. There was something so helpless about him. There was hardly anyone in the world that would do anything for him. His out of control drinking and gambling had left many bridges burned and friendships broken.

She hated returning home and couldn't wait until this visit was over. The neighborhood hadn't changed much. Indistinguishable suburban homes with freshly painted fences, neatly trimmed lawns, and two cars in the driveway, lined the streets. From the outside, everything seemed so perfect and idyllic. Just like things had seemed from the outside of her home.

As she pulled in the driveway, she saw her father on the front porch, pacing back and forth. Then she saw the cloud of smoke coming from his mouth. She gritted her teeth. Yet another promise he'd broken. Two years ago, he promised her, after a cancer scare, he'd never touch another cigarette. She closed her eyes and gripped the steering wheel tightly.

Several minutes later, they were inside, sitting on the couch. Her father reeked of scotch and cigarettes. His eyes were bloodshot. He'd been crying and drinking, drinking and crying.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened. This was going to be my last time. I just needed to win.....that stupid horse...."

Ali looked away in disgust. Once again he's taken a big loan from a man she hated. And once again, he'd lost. She didn't want to hear any horses, or gambling, or last times. She'd heard it all before. The last race, the last basketball game, the last football game, she'd heard it all before.

"So how much do you owe him?" She asked.

Eyes lowered, he mumbled something under his breath.

"How much, Dad? How much this time? I'll write the check."

"No...no."

"How much?"

He raised his eyes slowly. "850,000."

Ali's mouth gaped open. "Are you serious?"

He nodded up and down. She'd never seen him so broken, so pathetic.

"I don't have that kind of money," she said, dazed. "I'm not sure that I can help you out this time."

"Yes. There's one thing that you can do. And you have to do it."

"What."

He swallowed hard and stared directly into her eyes. A chill came over her. She felt like hopping off the couch, running out the door, jumping into the car, and zooming back to the city.

"You have marry him."

"Marry him?"

"It's the only way. Or else he'll go to the cops.... and I'm still on probation from last year. I'll go to jail!"

As he lurched towards her, Ali got off the couch and turned her back to him. She couldn't listen to this anymore. She went back to the porch, head spinning, legs wobbly, stomach churning. Marry Jake Montgomery? That asshole had always wanted to get his hands on her, especially after he found out that she was only interested in women.

Ali felt like she'd just been kicked in the stomach. She had waited so long for this day, for her company to finally win the backing of the big time investors. This is what she'd fantasized about every night while watching Shark Tank. Along the way, there had been so many disappointments and setbacks. But they'd made it.

Just hours later everything was ripped away from her. Maybe she shouldn't have been surprised. This is what her father had been doing his whole life. It's exactly what had driven her mother to despair-pills, vodka, two failed suicide attempts.

Witnessing the way her mother had suffered, inspired Ali to fight relentlessly for her independence, in particular financial. And now she would be forced to marry someone that she had despised her entire life to keep her father out of jail?

After sitting down, she let her head slump onto her chest. Tears formed in her eyes. Her heart beat wildly. She gripped the sides of the chair. Her absolute worst nightmare was coming true! How would she explain this to Ashlyn? What would happen to Sunday Moring Pastries?

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

During the 45 minute drive from the suburbs back to the city, Ali couldn't stop crying, sobbing at the wheel, trying not to lose complete control of herself. Yet again her father had gotten himself into a terrible situation. Yet again she would go above and beyond to drag him out of the pit that he'd fallen into. Yes, she had done this before. But nothing quite like this. $850,000. How the hell was she going to get her hands on that kind of money? Even if she married that jerk, would the debt ever be paid off?

One of her absolute worst nightmares was coming true. When she got back to her apartment, all she could bear to do was sit on the couch, staring at the blank TV screen, wondering how her life had come to this. She didn't have any more energy to cry. It all felt so strange, unlike anything she'd ever experienced before.

She looked at the clock. 730. Ashlyn was supposed to come over in an hour. They had planned on ordering Chinese food, drinking a bottle of wine or two, and cuddling and kissing on the couch while watching Netflix. Ali couldn't wait that long. She could feel her chest tightening, her breathing, and her heart rate picking up.

She needed to get out into the night air, needed to feel Ashlyn's arms around her, Ashlyn's comforting words. There was no one else for her to turn to. No one else she wanted to turn to. Instead of waiting, for what would have seemed like forever, she took an Uber to Ashlyn's apartment in Murray Hill.

The door opened. Ashlyn's face lit up with surprise. Distraught and heartbroken, Ali struggled to maintain eye contact.

"What's wrong, baby?" Ashlyn asked. "What happened?"

Ali spent the next 15 minutes explaining to Ashlyn the absurd, the impossible, the nightmarish situation that she found herself in.

After finishing her story, getting the huge weight off her chest, she was finally able to raise her eyes. She immediately noticed something was wrong. The warm, kind, expression that she'd expected to see in Ashlyn's eyes, the expression of empathy that she'd seen in Ashlyn's eyes several times before when talking about her fuck up, alcoholic, gambling father, was not there. Instead, Ashlyn stared at her icily.

"Marry him?" Ashlyn said, recoiling, getting off the couch, crossing her arms against her chest, then pacing back and forth.

"Yes," Ali said. "Marry him. Have you ever heard of anything so sick and twisted?"

She was pleading, desperate for Ashlyn to say something, to offer her some words of solace, some words of wisdom. But now it was Ashlyn who wasn't making eye contact, who seemed to be mumbling something under her breath, withdrawn into her own thoughts.

Ashlyn turned towards her, arms still crossed, brow furrowed.

"And what did you say?"

"I said yes. I had no choice. Where can I get $850,000?"

Ashlyn turned her back again, shaking her head.

"You said yes? Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"Ashlyn, don't be angry with me. I had to do it."

"Don't be angry with you? You're going to marry some asshole over a debt...."

"Those are the conditions. If I don't do it, my father will go to jail."

"Maybe that would be the best thing for him."

"What are you saying?"

"Maybe he'll finally get his act together in jail. And stop being such a fuck up."

"Ashlyn, don't say that."

"Yes. I think that would be the best thing for him. A couple of years in the slammer and he might finally learn what it is to be responsible."

"Ashlyn!"

Ashlyn didn't seem to have any more patience for what Ali had to say.

"Please don't be angry with me." Ali pleaded. "I don't know what I'll do if you're mad at me."

"What do you mean, you don't know what you'll do? You have a husband now, isn't that right?"

"Don't say that!"

"Why don't you get the fuck out of my apartment!"

Ali swallowed hard. Tears burst in her eyes. Ashlyn's words struck her with a string of a vicious slap. There was nothing more to say. The hard, angry, unforgiving look in Ashlyn's eyes was too much for Ali to take. She took several deep breaths, did her best to fight from screaming out, from dropping to her knees and begging at Ashlyn's feet.

As she walked past Ashlyn and to the door, Ali turned, slowly raised her head, "I'm so sorry, Ashlyn. I love you....I....."

"Get out!"


	4. Chapter 4

 After leaving Ashlyn's apartment, Ali wandered around the West Village in a daze. So much had happened over the last few hours. Her life had gone completely off the tracks.

 The successful meeting with the investors seemed like it had taken place years ago. She remembered being out in the hallway, wrapping her arms around Ashlyn, staring deep into her eyes. They'd made it. Finally! The moment they'd been waiting for, dreaming about, working every night for, well into the early morning hours, had finally arrived. And this first major investor was only going to be the beginning. So much more excitement and success awaited them.

 Taxi lights speared through the darkness. Loud horns honked. Tires skidded. Couples walked hand-in-hand on the sidewalk. It all seemed like a blur to her. Her father had fallen into deep shit, deeper shit than he had ever fallen into before. She had agreed to marry a man, Jake Montgomery, that she had known all her life, just to keep him out of jail. And now the person that she leaned on more than anyone else in the world, had thrown her out of her apartment, and seemingly out of her life.

 Now what? That was the question that banged on the walls of Ali's brain. Now what?

 She walked past bars, restaurants, and clubs, past groups smiling, jocular, drunken people. She had never felt more alone. Is this what the next few years of her life would be like? How long would she be married to Jake? Was there a term limit to this arrangement that her father was pushing her into?

 She stopped walking and grabbed hold a banister. Her chest heaved. This wasn't fair. What had she done to deserve this? Nothing, absolutely nothing.

 When she finally got hold of herself, she started walking again, walking with her head down, pushing her way through the crowds.

 There was no way that she could go through with this marriage! She walked the 25 blocks home, trying to be able to function.

 All her life, she had worked hard in school and hard at the first few jobs she got out of school because there was nothing she wanted more than her independence. She never wanted to have to rely on a man, for money, for emotional support, for anything. What cruel irony!

 There was no telling how mean and sadistic Jake would be to her, knowing how much she cared about her father, despite all his flaws. Jake was precisely the kind of man who would look to take advantage of someone in a vulnerable situation. He'd always been like that.

 That night Ali tossed, kicked, and clawed in bed as the image of Ashlyn's glaring face and Jake's snickering face haunted her.

 When she rose in the morning, still groggy, still not quite believing what had happened over the last 36 hours, she knew one thing: there was no way that she would go through with this marriage. She picked up her phone and called Ashlyn. The phone rang three times then went to voicemail. She called again. It went to voice mail after three rings. She sent frantic text messages.

  _Ashlyn, I love you. I love you. I'm not going to marry him. I love you. Please pick up your phone. Please respond. Say something. Please, please, please._

For the next twenty minutes, she paced around the apartment, waiting for the phone to ring, waiting for it to beep. In vain.

 Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. Since it was Saturday, the only way to see Ashlyn would be to go to her apartment. And that's exactly what she did. She knocked on the door, "Ashlyn, open up please!" She knocked and banged and pleaded. "Please! Please!"

 A door across the hall opened. Ali turned around. A stooped old woman in a bathrobe shook her head from side to side, and then with an Eastern European accent said, "She left earlier. Two hours ago."

"Huh?"

"She finally accepted the offer. Mcgill! I think she'll make a wonderful lawyer."

 Ali stared at her in shock, mouth gaping open. Then she turned back towards Ashlyn's door gently knocking on it. "Why? You said that you didn't want to go anymore. You said that we were building something special. You said...."


	5. Chapter 5

 Ali spent the rest of the weekend in bed. She didn't shower or turn on the lights or the TV or the radio or her laptop. Nothing mattered to her. She had lost so much-her freedom, the woman that she was building a relationship with, and the last shreds of respect and love that she had for her father. She had no idea what she would do on Monday when Michael would expect her in the office. She had no idea how she would function out in the world, a world that didn't seem to exist for her anymore.

 Late Sunday afternoon, she had finally had enough. She had no more tears to cry. She wouldn't spend any more time feeling sorry for herself. No, she had never been that sort of person. This was a time to act, to stand up for herself, to fight against this fate that seemed sealed against her. After showering and gulping down a pot of coffee, she headed out of her apartment and hopped into her car. She tightly gripped the steering wheel and closed her eyes. Adrenaline and nervousness coursed through her veins.

"What do you mean?" her father asked getting off the couch and putting his hand on his head, eyes wide with dread. "What do you mean you're not going to marry him? You have to do this. There's no choice. None!"

She knew it would be hard. She knew that he would look at her with those sad eyes, pleading, begging. She knew that it would take every ounce of her fierce, independent spirit to resist. She looked down at her trembling hands.

"Sorry, dad," she said slowly raising her eyes towards him. "I've worked too hard to give everything up."

"I'm not asking you to give anything up. I'm not." He sat back down on the couch and reached out for her hands. Before she had time to pull them away, he took hold of them.

"I just need you to do this one thing. Just this one thing and all my debts go away."

She lowered her eyes and shook her head.

"I know this isn't the first time I said that. But I mean it. This will only be for a year or two."

"Or five or ten or forever," she said staring at him defiantly.

Their eyes locked. Tears began to trickle down his cheek.

Ali clenched her fists and bit her bottom lip, fighting the urge to hug and comfort him.

Normally, the sight of her father crying would have caused Ali to extend her arms and pull him tightly to her.

But something deep down inside of her rebelled against that. She wouldn't stand for it. She had no other choice.

Her father sniffled, wiped away his tears, and stared at her.

"Do you really hate me that much?" He said.

"Daddy, I love you. And I want you to get help. You know that."

"Letting me go to jail? That's your idea of helping me?"

"Maybe if you had gone to jail years ago, things would've turned out differently."

"What things?" His eyes narrowed, face darkened. "What things are you talking about?"

"Dad, I have to go. It's been a long weekend."

"What things?" He said, raising his voice and glaring at her.

She shook her head from side to side, turned her back on him, then looked over her shoulder. "I know you'll figure something out. You always do."

"Where are you going?"

"Back to my life."

"You're just going to leave me?"

Her hand gripped the doorknob. She closed her eyes, took deep breaths, then looked over her shoulder again. "I love you."

 


	6. Chapter 6

 The next morning, Ali didn't wait for the alarm clock to go off at 545 before springing out of bed. Enthusiasm crackled through her body. A huge weight and depressing burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She had finally told her father no, after all these years of bending and sacrificing. She had finally told him no, finally stood up for herself. _He'll thank me one day_ , she said to herself, only half believing it. It was hard to know what he would do. He was so deep in his personal shit hole, so deep in his addiction, nothing else mattered except that next bet, that next drink, that next adrenaline rush. She had worked too hard for her independence, her business, her freedom to throw it all away because of his foolishness. If she hadn't stood up for herself and refused to marry Jake Montgomery, she would've never forgiven herself. And she probably would never have forgiven her father either. She would've lived each day in bitterness and anger. 

Instead of taking the subway 20 blocks to work, like she did most mornings, she decided to walk through the city streets. This wasn't a job for her, it was a career. This was her purpose.

How can selling cupcakes be your purpose? Some people would've laughed and snickered. As a young girl, she had seen her mother and grandmother in the kitchen, preparing pastries not just for the people in the family, but for the people in their church group. They would wake up before sunrise and stay in the kitchen until midnight, preparing cookies, cakes, and pies to drop off to local churches the next morning and afternoon. It was the one time when her mother was really able to stay sober. Those Saturdays spent in the kitchen had come to an abrupt end when Ali's grandmother died of a stroke a couple weeks before her 85th birthday.

That death had been the beginning of the end for the family, the beginning of her mother's downward spiral into hopelessness and alcoholism. After her grandmother's death, the empty kitchen on Saturdays always haunted Ali. Her mother would stay in bed late into the afternoon, a large bottle of vodka on the bedside table.

"Go downstairs and get me some ice," her mother would say. "Ali, I need more orange juice," she would yell, her voice growing angrier and less clear throughout the day.

"Mom, don't you want to bake? And then go around to all the churches tomorrow?" Ali would say.

But it was no use. Her mother would ignore her, slurping her drink through a straw as the light from the television flickered off her face, a vacant expression in her eyes.

Ali could only stare at her mother with tear filled eyes. For many years that zombie expression on her mother's face haunted her.

While her mother drank herself into oblivion, What was her father doing?

He was either at the racetrack or a bar gambling and drinking away his paychecks, which only seemed to get smaller and smaller as he was forced to move from one job to the next. Hoping to connect with him, Ali had once accompanied him to the track. She had begged him for weeks to take her with him. He always refused. But finally, for some reason, he gave in and agreed to take her.

He barely said a word to her while he was there. He cursed and scribbled notes, yelled at the horses, drank and joked and fought with some of the other downtrodden looking men.

When she got to the office, she greeted the doorman and went up in the elevator, anxious to see Michael. She wondered whether or not he'd heard Ashlyn had chosen to go abroad, abandoning the company  just as it was about to take off.

When she walked into her office suite and made eye contact with him, she could tell right away, from the sad look in his eyes, that he'd heard the news.

They retreated to a private conference room.

"She always wanted to go to Law School," Ali said. "Maybe it's the best thing. For all of us."

"The best thing for all of us?" Michael said, shaking his head in despair. "What do you mean?"

"I mean now we'll have to work harder and dig deeper than ever before."

"Are we going to be able to do that?" he asked.

Ali smiled brightly and nodded up and down. "Of course we can. I'd bet my life on it."

"Do you really think that you should be betting?"

They stared at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Time jump)

Ali smiled and stared into the camera. Then she began fidgeting, not sure what to do with her hands.

"Thank you for joining us on News Seven at Six. My name is Kate Lambert. Today I'll be talking with the co-owner and founder of the popular and quickly expanding, Sunday Morning Pastries, Ali Krieger."

Ali spaced out briefly as the cute, rather high-pitched and overly enthusiastic blonde TV host ran down the company's accomplishments over the last several years.

The first few months without Ashlyn had brought her and Michael on the brink of collapse. It didn't take long for them to realize that when it came to the business side of Sunday Morning Pastries, Ashlyn's acumen stood well above theirs. They spent more than a few days feeling bad for themselves, lamenting their fate. But the memory of her mother and grandmother baking selflessly and tirelessly, quickly snapped Ali out of her negative and self-deprecating thoughts.

Deep down she knew the running this company was her calling. It was fate. It was something that she would never give up on. The moment that she adopted that never say die, refusal to fail attitude the company began to turn around, bit by bit, one scope scoop of sugar and flour at a time, one satisfied customer at a time. Soon enough, or maybe just in time, those 18 hour days, no longer seemed so daunting. After a while, she learned to crave those marathon work sessions. That total commitment to a purpose, no matter how much it demanded of her, was something that she had never experienced before. After a few months, it became something that she couldn't live without.

Over the last five years, she hadn't been the only person in her family fighting a battle against great odds. Her father had been engaged in his own life and death struggle, every day going toe to toe with the addictions that had ravaged his life. After agreeing to do a minimum of 18 months in a rehabilitation clinic, he just narrowly escaped jail time. Ali had been the only person in his life to attend the last hearing during which the judge rendered his verdict. But that display of loyalty wasn't enough for the old man. Upon leaving the courtroom, he refused to acknowledge her. The pain of that rejection cut her to the bone. She spent many nights crying bitterly, weeping, cursing her father for his selfishness and weakness, cursing him for the hell that he put her entire family through.

When she got tired of being angry, she would work with even more intensity, more determination, ensuring that Sunday Morning Pastries was a success. She had been forced to learn how to channel her anger and frustration, using them as fuel, which both ignited and sustained her entrepreneurial fires. She had learned how to view all life's trails, no matter how painful or scarring, as something positive to be used for her own personal and spiritual growth.

At the end of the interview, a sense of relief washed over Ali. This one is the tenth time that she had been interviewed in the last month for either print or electronic media. She had never really enjoyed talking about herself, no matter how proud they made her. Whenever she heard CEO's and business owners going on and on about their companies, she would always roll her eyes and snicker. No matter how much success she had, she was determined to never become that type of person. Having her own company, generating profits in the high six-figures, was not about money or success. All those things were nice but what really mattered to her, what really made her spring out of bed each morning before the alarm went off, or stay in the office long after the sun had set and everyone else went home, was her belief that her pastries, which were made with love and care, made people's lives just a little bit better.

That belief that she needed to live a life of service had clearly come from both her mother and grandmother. Sunday Morning Pastries was her small way of making the world a better place.

Thankfully, she didn't keep her head in the clouds all day. There was too much work to get for her not to have her feet firmly placed on the ground most of time. So much had happened over the last few years. This dream, this fantasy, was more real than ever. The company was expanding faster than she would have ever imagined possible. They were opening up their own factory and distribution centers. They no longer had to go in search of investors. Every other day a new offer came in.

Yet she couldn't help feeling that something was missing in her life. Maybe that's why she worked 18 hour days, hardly ever giving herself any time to think about except the company. She was trying to fill a hole deep within herself.

Hardly a day went by without her thinking about....Ashlyn. She hadn't heard from her. Five years and not a word. No calls, texts, emails, letters, nothing.

"You really have to get back out there and start dating," Michael often said to her. "She's not coming back. You have to accept that and move on with your life."

Ali hated those words. She hated to admit that Ashlyn would never come back. With all her strength, with every bit of her soul, she fought to onto to hope that maybe one day they would be reunited. While alone in her apartment, especially after a couple glasses of white wine,  she would pretend as if Ashlyn were right there next to her. Whenever she fixed her hair in he mirror or tried on different outfits, she would imagine Ashlyn's reaction.

But whether not they would ever meet again was out of her control. That was the worst part. Throughout her life, regardless how improbable it seemed, she would dig deep down within herself, working harder and smarter than anyone else. No more often than not-whether it was getting into a top culinary school, rising above her classmates, or raising the capital to start her own business-she usually attained whatever it was she desired.

One late Friday afternoon, Ali and Michael sat in their private conference room, discussing plans for next week.

"I'm really thinking that we should bring on a new contractor for the Quebec deal," Michael said. "I think we need someone on the ground who speaks French but also understands our New York sensibility."

"French and English?" Ali said, remembering how Ashlyn would often whisper phrases in French to her while they lay in bed, bodies intertwined, a sheen of sweat covering them as they recovered from an intense, sensual, lovemaking session.

"That sounds great to me," Ali said. "Just make sure you get the best. You've got the money."

Michael fixed his eyes on her and slowly nodded up and down.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Meanwhile in Montreal**

Ashlyn gripped the frozen banister as she trudged up the icy steps. The bitter cold air stung her exposed cheeks. Wet snow had gotten inside her boots. She could feel her feet beginning to freeze.

She was relieved when she finally made it inside her cavernous condo. She'd been living in Montreal for the past five years but still hadn't quite acclimated to the brutal winters. Having lived most her life in the Northern United States, she didn't anticipate cold winters being a problem for her. But she was definitely wrong.

Besides the frigid winters, she found everything about the city to be absolutely magical-the musical accents, the lively city streets, the hedonistic spirits. And she certainly loved that she got to speak and live in French every day. Throughout her professional life, her bilingualism had always given her a slight edge.

After turning up the heat and slipping into her most comfortable sweatpants and sweater, she poured herself a glass of Pinot Noir and plopped down on the couch. She looked forward to a relaxing weekend. She had just completed the final paperwork on a six-month, multimillion dollar deal for a major Quebecois seafood distributor.

Next week she would be assigned a new project.

So far the money had been great, much more than she had ever made in her life, she kept in great shape physically swimming four times a week, doing yoga, and rarely eating meat but still she couldn't help feeling that something was missing. Every now and then she would get nostalgic about New York. She still had so many friends there, so many good memories.

Anxious to find out if she had received the critical email yet, she carried her half-filled wine glass over to her laptop. One new message. It was from her company. She clicked on it and nearly fainted when she saw the name of the company that she would be working with.

The next morning, Ashlyn stayed in bed until noon, something that she never did. _Is this some cruel joke?_ She wondered. Why the hell are they sending her back to New York, her old stomping grounds, to consult with a rapidly expanding and high earning pastry company looking to break into the Canadian market via Quebec. But it was just any pastry company.

Ashlyn had never asked out of an assignment before. She was always willing to do whatever the bosses asked. But as she rode the train to work Monday morning, she kept trying to craft an argument to present to her bosses. She couldn't go to New York, not now. Couldn't they send someone else?

Nope! By the time she arrived at downtown Montreal office, she had been unable to come up with a reasonable excuse. She was headed to New York! She would be working side by side with the woman who had thrown away their relationship, the woman who had broken her heart, right when she thought they were on the cusp of building something truly special.

She had no idea how she was going to control her emotions and fight through the intense pain that she still felt.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter. One or two more chapters left.

 While she was happy to be back in New York, Ashlyn couldn't get over the pain that she felt realizing that she would have to work with Ali over the next several weeks. What a cruel twist of fate! Yet she had to admit that she was curious as to why Ali hadn't gotten married to Jake Montgomery. Had she found another way to pay back the debt? Was it all just some sick joke? None of that really made any sense to her. That was a chapter in her life, an incredibly painful one, which she hated remembering. For the next few weeks, she wouldn’t have a choice.

 Every time she looked into Ali's brown sparkling eyes, every time she got a whiff of her lavender scented perfume, she was transported back to the many weekends that they had spent together in the city, either kissing or cuddling in one of their apartments, or strolling through the West Village hand-in-hand, planning on spending the rest of their life together.

 They'd only been dating 5 months when things had broken off so abruptly. But in the space of those months, Ashlyn had experienced a level of intimacy and comfort, that she would have never imagined possible.

 The next day she would be going to Ali's office. That would be the beginning. She didn't know how she was going to make it through the next few weeks.

 Once the project got under way, she had a bad feeling that Michael would end up leaving early, forcing her and Ali to spend time together. If things got tense, she could always come up with some excuse about why she couldn’t stay past normal working hours.

But she knew that she wouldn't do that. She wouldn’t let Ali think that she was slacking off, that she had lost any of her discipline and passion. If Ali was going to stay and work past midnight, then Ashlyn was going to do the same. That was the only way it could be.

 A little bit after 8 o'clock Sunday evening, Ashlyn's phone beeped several times. She quickly picked it up and froze as she saw the name of the screen.

 **Ali: I'm really looking forward to working together :-)**   **I think you're the perfect person to take us to another level.**

Ashlyn stared at the screen, wondering if there were more messages to come.

 "Is that really all she has to say for herself? " Ashlyn said out loud, getting off the couch, then throwing the phone down, and pacing. She bit down on her bottom lip, rubbed her temples. She would've liked to gulp down a drink or two or maybe head out to a bar. But she was never one for drinking on a Sunday. And she wouldn't break that personal rule today. No way. Tomorrow, she would need her mind to be sharp, tiptop. She also knew that once the alcohol had lowered her inhibitions, she might end up sending a stream of emotional text messages to Ali, revealing… What? That she was still hopelessly attracted to her? That she had never stopped thinking about her over the last three years? Or maybe something even more painful to admit…

 Ashlyn sighed deeply. She felt like a fool. She had no idea whether Ali was single or what she had been up to in her social life. Images of them walking hand-in-hand at the pride parade kept flashing back into her mind. They had been so happy that day, so free, so in love.

 Her phone beeped again. She stared at it, crossed her arms against her chest.

 She briefly considered not even looking at the message, going out for a walk, getting some fresh air, reconnecting to the world. But she quickly abandoned those thoughts and rushed to the phone, picked it up.

**Ali: I missed you a lot. Sleep tight:)**

 The next morning as she rode the subway to Ali’s office, Ashlyn’s entire body tingled with excitement and apprehension. When the train arrived at 14th Street she got off but didn't immediately leave the station. She had to sit down to gather her thoughts and fight back the tears that tried to push their way out of her eyes. Suddenly she realized just how emotionally deadened she had been over the last several years. She had put up walls, hardening her heart, trying to keep any serious feelings out of her relationships with people. And for the most part, she had been successful. She had done some casual dating, had a few flings her and there, but nothing that came close to a serious relationship.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Michael, I'm still waiting for the file on Francophone liaison in Québec. We're still meeting with them today, aren't we?”

 Michael looked up from his desk and stared at her with a strange expression, cocking his head slightly to the side.

 Ali crossed her arms against her chest. “Why are you staring at me like that?"

“Nothing. Don't worry. It's not a big deal.”

“What do you mean, it's not a big deal? This is potentially a ten million dollar deal. What's wrong with you?”

 She fixed her eyes on him. This wasn’t like him at all.

 “It’s nothing,” he replied. “I’ve just been really stressed. And you have too.”

 Two knocks sounded against the door.

 “I think that's them,” he said, smiling slyly.

 The door opened. Ali dropped the file that she was holding. Documents spilled onto the floor. Her mouth dropped open, eyes opened wide. Ashlyn!

 Ali's eyes slowly strolled up and down her body. Michael pushed past her and greeted them. Ali didn't move. Her eyes had hooked onto Ashlyn. A montage of memories flickered before her eyes. Despite how intensely Ali stared at her, Ashlyn refused to make eye contact.

 As a montage of memories flickered through Ali’s mind, the middle-aged man accompanying Ashlyn introduced himself and extended his hand. Ali’s eyes remained fixed on Ashlyn who was coming towards her, not smiling, her eyes cold, hard, and jagged.

 Five minutes later the four of them settled into the conference room. Ali and Ashlyn sat directly across from each other. For nearly twenty minutes both of the men did most of the talking, something that neither Ali or Ashlyn would have allowed under normal circumstances. But these circumstances were anything but normal. Ali struggled to keep her eyes off of Ashlyn. The harder she tried not to look at her, the stronger the magnetic force pulled her back to that beautifully sculpted jaw, those hazel eyes, those full, soft, pulpy lips. 

 When Ashlyn did finally add her input to the discussion, she seemed to do everything in her power not to look at Ali. Why is she treating me like this? Ali wondered. Has she still not forgiven me for the way that things ended between us?

 When the meeting finally ended they all shook hands and headed out into the hallway. Ali closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. She had to get a hold of herself, and she also had to say something. There was no way she could let this moment slip. If she did, she wouldn't be able to forgive herself.

 “Ashlyn!” She called out a bit too loudly, a bit too desperately. The two men turned and stared at them. Michael had a worried look in his eyes as if he were telling her to keep her calm, not to mess this up, not to let her personal feelings get in the way of the deal. 

 But she would have words with him later. Why had he kept this secret from her? How could he let her walk into this situation unprepared? There would be plenty of time for her to deal with him.

 Ashlyn turned, sighed, and directed her eyes towards the ceiling—contempt and disdain etched on her face. Suddenly Ali regretted having said anything. But it was too late now.

 “Yes, Ali, is there something that you would like to say?” Ashlyn asked in a jagged edged tone, raising her eyebrows.

 Instinctively, Ali took a step backward. Her tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of her mouth. “I just wanted to say that I'm… I'm really sorry.”

 Ashlyn's mouth opened slightly. Her eyes softened. But within seconds her face darkened and hardened again.

“Would you like to maybe get coffee or something?” Ali asked.

“No, I don't want to get coffee.”

“Why not? We haven't seen each other…”

“Five years. It's been five years. I’m not the same person I was before. But I look forward to working together on this project.”

“Do you?”

Ashlyn sighed and raised her eyes to the ceiling again. “Do I what?”

 Ali could hardly bring herself to answer. She felt like dropping to the floor and begging for forgiveness.

“Do you really look forward to working with me or are you just doing this for the money?”

 Ashlyn snickered, crossed her arms against her chest. “I make plenty of money. Plenty. I like helping companies go to the next level. It’s something that I’m damn good at. I’ll see you on Monday.”

 Ali's lips quivered as she watched Ashlyn walk down the hallway and disappear into the elevator.


	9. Chapter 9

 For the next couple of days, no matter what Ali did, she couldn’t get Ashlyn's face out of her mind. So much time had passed since the traumatic night that had ended their relationship. But for some reason that gulf of time, five years, didn't quite seem real to her. So many events from the evening still felt fresh and raw in her mind—closing the first major deal with investors, receiving the desperate call from her father, reluctantly driving to her suburban hometown, then crying her way back to the city in search of solace and comfort, hoping to find it in Ashlyn’s arms. And then it had ended.

_Get Out!_

“She must completely hate me,” Ali repeated to herself over and over again as she paced around her apartment, biting her nails, constantly checking her cell phone, foolishly holding out hope that maybe Ashlyn would send her a message, some sign that maybe things weren't over between them, that maybe she was ready to forgive. Every time she picked up the phone, she sighed heavily, then tossed it aside. But she couldn’t go on living like this. The jumble of emotions was too much. Eventually, she would crack, break down, completely lose her mind.

 For the first time in years, she began frantically searching for her running gear. Jogging had never been her thing. Usually, after a few minutes, once the initial adrenaline rush had worn off, boredom quickly set in. But she couldn’t think of anything else that could possibly help to relieve the tension that gnawed away at her.

 Five years apart and now they would be forced to work side-by-side, from morning late until the evening… Just like the old days. Michael had set the whole thing up!

 Over the last few weeks, whenever she would ask him for more information about their Quebecois liaison, he would give her strange looks—sometimes averting his eyes, other times biting down on his bottom lip as if he were trying to keep from saying something She should’ve known that he was up to something!

 She was both angered and delighted that he hadn't said anything. She didn't even want to consider how irrationally she would have reacted if he had told her beforehand that Ashlyn would be sauntering through their office door, looking sexier and more confident than ever.

 When she finally found a pair of yoga pants, running shoes, winter hat, and gloves, Ali headed to Central Park. During the walk, she felt a sense of freedom and relief. Getting out of her apartment, was definitely what she needed to. Despite the December cold, a warm energy radiated through her body. And when she got her arms pumping, feet pounding the pavement, all her worries and concerns drifted away. The cool air brushing up against her skin made her feel alive, immersed in the moment, made one with her surroundings, something that she could hardly ever experienced in the hectic, hypercompetitive metropolis. She couldn't help wondering if maybe there was more to life than being in business. Maybe she was neglecting her mental health. Maybe work was the drug that allowed her to escape into her own world. Maybe it was her addiction. It only seemed natural that she, like so many other people in her family, most notably her mother and father, suffered from some sort of addiction.

 40 minutes of adrenaline inducing running later, Ali finally came to a stop, bent over, hands on her knees, sweating, panting, exhausted, yet also exhilarated. She had forgotten how thrilling physical exercise could be, how it could transport you away from your mundane worries and concerns. She bought a bottle of water and a salad from a Korean market across the street, then began the trek back to her apartment.

 When she got home, she poured herself a glass of wine, plopped down on the couch, and began scrolling through Netflix. Only a couple of hours earlier, she had found it impossible to sit still, mind empty, body relaxed, soul at peace. She looked forward to her next run. She would go even longer, pump her arms even faster, push herself, even further. A couple glasses of wine later, she dozed off, sinking into a deep and soothing sleep.

 The next day, she couldn't believe how sore she was. Every single muscle in her body ached, especially her legs and feet. During the run, she hadn't felt anything, except bliss, pure, sweet and desperately needed. But the reality of her aging body—31st birthday only months away—slapped her hard in the face, stinging her ego. She should've known that once the surge of adrenaline wore off, her body would tell her what it really felt. But despite hardly being able to move, all she could do was laugh at herself, not regretting a single thing that she done the previous day. Her only regret was that she had no one to share her soreness with, no one to curl up with on the couch, sipping hot cocoa laced with rum, flipping through channels, chatting, flirting, kissing and cuddling the day away. Those thoughts evoked images— gentle and sweet with a tinge of melancholy—of the weekends that she and Ashlyn had spent together all those years ago. Finally, she couldn't resist. She had to reach out, had to say something before they saw each other the next day in the office. There was no way that Ali was going to be able to pretend that she didn't still have very strong feelings for her. But would those feeling be reciprocated?

 Would Ashlyn mind that Ali had put on a couple of pounds over the last few years? Did she have a sexy French-speaking girlfriend back in Montréal? There was no way to know, at least not yet. But none of that mattered. Ali realized that if there was any chance of rekindling their relationship, she would have to reach out and make herself vulnerable, risking a potentially crushing rejection.

 Over the next several weeks, Ali and Ashlyn spent most of the day from 9 AM until about 630 PM in a private conference room, parsing through a tangled web of legal and business documents.

 Every now and then, Ali would look up from the mountain of paperwork in front of her and admire just how determined and brilliant Ashlyn was. Without her, there was no way that she would've gotten through this project. But that wasn’t the only thing on her mind.

 Every stare, every smile—real or fake—, every sigh, every word—and there weren’t many—they exchanged seemed loaded with so much meaning, so much pain. There is no way around it. Neither one of them had recovered from their breakup. During their time working together alone, while Michael handled affairs in the main office, Ali paid particular attention to how Ashlyn reacted when her phone beeped or buzzed. She was desperate to know, despite fearing the truth, whether or not Ashlyn had a significant other back in Montréal. Did she even have time for a social life, given how dedicated she was to her work?

 “Another few days and we should have everything wrapped up, right?” Ali said smiling and raising her eyes.

 Ashlyn didn't immediately look up from the two documents that she was meticulously analyzing, softly reading from one in English, then the other in French. Ali considered repeating herself, uncertain whether or not Ashlyn had heard her.

“I don't know about that. Unless you are willing to stay here late into the evening.”

 As she finished speaking, Ashlyn slowly lifted her eyes and stared at Ali as if she were challenging, taunting, testing her. Ali's face turned red. Of course, she was willing to work well into the night. She wasn't the one who for the last two weeks had promptly left the conference room every day at 630 as if she absolutely had somewhere else to be. Why was Ashlyn talking to her like that?

“Yes, that's fine by me,” Ali said, holding her head high and meeting Ashlyn's gaze. So they stayed and they worked, well past normal closing time, each one of them burrowing deeper into their specific pile of documents, hardly making eye contact, hardly exchanging a word. For Ali, all the joy and excitement that she had felt about working together had painfully drained away, leaving behind something undesirable and bitter. She no longer felt like they were working together but as if they were competing, trying to see who would outlast the other, who could keep their eyes open and brain functioning, without respite deep into the night. But maybe this is what she should've expected. Maybe she had been foolish to expect anymore, to somehow still hold on to the hope that there was a way to heal the wound that separated them.

 Around midnight, Ali raised her arms into the air and yawned. She was having trouble keeping her eyes open. Her back, fingers, and neck ached. Her entire body called out for sleep. The last hour or so, the numbers and letters that she had been staring at for hours, seemed to lift from the page, float in the air, spin around her head. She desperately wanted to stop working, hop in a cab, and snatch a few hours of sleep.

 “I’m really impressed with how well you guys have done the last few years,” Ashlyn said.

“Not many people would have been able to pull this off.” Ali stared at Ashlyn, not sure whether or not she was hallucinating.

 Did Ashlyn really just compliment me? She asked herself, confused.

“What? You really think so? I mean…”

 Ashlyn smiled and brushed a tangle of dark brown hair from her face. Ali was struck by just how beautiful, how finely sculpted her face was. And on top of that, there was something so damn sexy about her grit, determination, and intelligence, and something even sexier about the sexual beast that she would turn into during moments of private intimacy.

“Yes, of course, I mean it. This is really, really impressive. I work with a ton of companies and right at the moment when so many people are on the brink of failure, it's like your company is completely taking off.”

 Ali lowered her head, swallowing hard, trying to craft an adequate response. It was so nice to hear those words from Ashlyn, someone who would never waste time with false compliments. If she said something positive about you or something important to you, then there was no question that she believed it.

“Thank you for saying that,” Ali finally replied. “Sometimes it feels like no matter how hard we work, no matter how many deals we close… It just feels like we’re competing against so many other big companies and...."

 Ashlyn rolled her eyes, then stared up at the ceiling. “There you go with that.”

“With what?”

“Not giving yourself enough credit, that's what. You’re beating out companies with ten times as many resources as you and probably fifty times as many employees. Stop. You're really good.”

For several moments, they stared at each other, eyes locked.

“Anyway,” Ashlyn said shaking her head. “We should probably get out of here. I'm about to pass out. And you don't look like you've got much energy left either.”

After a brief silence, they both broke out laughing.

 They packed up, left the conference room, and headed down the hallway to the elevator. Once inside a tense silence slipped between them. Out of the corner of her eye, Ali could see a slight smile playing on Ashlyn's lips. What did it mean? What did that last bit of conversation mean? Throughout the day they had hardly said a word to each other and then suddenly they had burst into a friendly, even flirty back-and-forth.

 When they got down to the ground level, a wave of sadness passed over Ali. The day was done. But within six hours, she would be rolling out of bed, making her morning coffee, listening to the news, reading the Wall Street Journal and preparing to come back to the office for another long, arduous day. But something was missing.

They stepped outside into the midnight air, stood under a streetlight, only inches apart, staring at each other. A mysterious smile slithered its way across Ashlyn's lips. There were so many things that Ali wanted to say, so many words felt like they were stuck in her throat. 

 Ashlyn took a step closer. “I’m really glad you hired me. I don't know why you did. But I'm really glad that you did.” Ashlyn took another step closer, then softly pressed her full, pulpy lips against Ali’s.

 Ali closed her eyes and sighed. She wrapped her arms around Ashlyn and tightly embraced her. Their bodies exchanged energies—warm, ecstatic, intoxicating as they kissed, tongues twisting and twirling and darting in and out of each other’s hungry mouths. Ali’s entire body tingled with pleasure. Her panties dampened, nipples hardened. She had waited for this moment for so long, so damn long!

 As they rode the elevator up to Ali's apartment, they kissed, necked, tongued and fondled. Ali threw her head back and offered up her pale neck for Ashlyn to cover with kisses and nibbles. They panted and moaned, hands groping wildly, bodies twisting and contorting as unbridled passion seeped from their pores.

 “I’ve never stopped thinking about you,” Ashlyn said, breathlessly, continuing to lick and nibble and suck. “I knew that I would have you again. I knew that you would be mine again.”

Excited and surprised by Ashlyn's sudden declaration, Ali was unable to respond. Her mouth gaped open. Her eyes opened wide. So many questions rattled inside her brain.

 Were they getting back together? Or was this moment just a burst of lust that would be meaningless to them when the sun rose in a few hours?

 The elevator stopped and the doors opened. They straightened out their clothing, stared at each other giggling, then looked left, then right before walking down the hallway hand-in-hand to Ali's door.

 As Ali pushed the key into the lock, Ashlyn stood behind her, thrusting her hips back and forth. “I’m going to fuck you really hard,” Ashlyn said.

Ali's face lit up with lust. Her panties dripped. She couldn't wait to feel Ashlyn on top of her. It had been so long. Far too long!


End file.
